Page 92 of Gravehouse

She shifts backward. “You’re going to tell her that your marriage isn’t real, and that it was all a trick, and that you’re in love with me.”

My lip curls. “Is that so?”

“Really.” She lifts her chin.

I glare at her.

“The second thing you’re going to do is...” She leans forward, lowering her voice. “That thing you do that ensures shestaysbusy.”

Everything in me goes still.There’s no fucking way.But I don’t have time to figure out her wordplay, and if I don’t say something, she’ll take it as confirmation.

I take a slow step deeper into her space. “You should know better than to think you sit at any kind of power, Camille.”

She laughs, piercing through every sound barrier known to man, and lands right on my patience. “Oh, but I do. At least with this, and you know it.”

“Get the fuck out,” I snap.

She stands and has the audacity to close the distance between us like it isn’t the only thing keeping her alive. “Oh, honey...” Her finger drags over my scar. “You know this is fate.”

I whack her away. “That ain’t fucking happening.” My hand lands on her throat and I shove her up against the wall. “And if you had half a brain, you wouldn’t fucking touch me again.”

Tilting my head, I let my gaze drag over her face until she quivers under my palm.

“What I would give to end it here. To snap your frail little neck and call it a fucking day, but as you know…” I lower my lips to her ear and goosebumps spread over her skin. “I fucking can’t.”

I ram her against the wall and step away. “Yet.”

Before I change my mind, I turn back towards the door and slam it closed, leaning against it for a second to remind myself she isn’t worth the shit show killing her would create.

“You ok?” My head snaps toward the end of the hall. Khloe. Fuck. I forgot she was on this side of the house.

I flash a smile at her, a genuine one. “Yeah.” It’s the one I only use for her, Ivy, my mom, and fans. For everyone excepteveryone. “It’s gonna be.”

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

IVY

An hour.An hour explaining everything that’s changed this fast while I whisk batter that’swaytoo thick to pass as edible.

“You’re stirring it wrong.” Luce leans into her screen, her face filling the frame.

Why am I explaining anyway? Shouldn’t they be pleased he hasn’t killed me? “I’m stirring it fine.”

Luce mumbles. “You’re going to get lumps.”

“Then I’ll eat the lumps.” I drag the spoon through again, and the batter slaps the side of the bowl.

Jord tilts his head, squinting at his screen. “Is that Asher’s shirt?”

I glance down at the faded black cotton like I just noticed it and hadn’t been secretly wearing it the whole year I thought he was dead.Ice Butcherstretches across the chest in cracked lettering. It smells like him, which is exactly what I’mnotabout to say out loud.

I shrug like it’s nothing. “It was on the floor and I needed a shirt.”

“Suuuure,” Jord drags out the syllables. “Lotsof things end up on floors.”

Tilting the bowl, I pour enough into the cast iron. “Exactly. A common occurrence. Painfully normal.”